


She drains my soul... she drains it not

by Niham87



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: A dash of satire, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Dean is still a jerk(well he's a demon so), Evasive!Rio, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Falling in Friendship, Follows S1/S2 Timeline Loosely, Inappropriate Humor, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Succubus!Beth, Supernatural Elements, Thirsty!Beth, halloween party, pop culture references, therapy sessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niham87/pseuds/Niham87
Summary: Ellz’beth has been seducing mortals for more millennia than she can count. Life in Hell is far from idyllic and on Earth far from exotic, even for a glamourous, eco-conscious Succubus with a killer wardrobe and the ability to be whoever the fuck she wants.That’s the problem, she doesn’t want to be anything. Apparently, even demons are bound to bouts of ennui from time to time. Her therapist says it’s all normal, even if demons aren’t supposed to “feel” anything, just a residual malaise from the power of absorption.After the Soul Collection Department (SCD) issues a verbal warning on her performance (or better yet, lack thereof), Beth is dispatched to Earth to collect one hundred souls before the clock hits the witching hour on Halloween night.A deadline was never a problem, at least not until she met a couple of striking souls and one darned (and maybe not so human) man.
Relationships: Beth Boland & Ruby Hill & Annie Marks, Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 19
Kudos: 207





	She drains my soul... she drains it not

**Author's Note:**

> As always a playlist for mood and aesthetics: [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0QcIca0vAtD4ZJds0E1eZS)||[Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL97D6YQgZAAXlpOkF6J-vQsUeZV8Yd32H)
> 
> For all the spooky season bitches and AU fans out there! Hope you enjoy it! ❤️️  
> (You guys can thank @5starWitch_ for the idea and giving me input on this one! Thank you @Hilda_Kamau for revising and listening to my freaky ideas!)  
> Mouseover the? for glossary/more info on some terms. (doesn't seem to work for mobile devices, adding it to the end notes too)

The mental knock wasn’t per se unexpected, and albeit unwanted, Beth put on her best bratty grin as her boss entered her dream. 

“Deanzy! How’s it going, boss? Join me in a Tequila Sunrise?” she said, already conjuring the ice-cold drink into his hand. 

He dismissed the drink for a burnt papyrus scroll, a smarmy smile plastered over his gleaming fangs. The only tell on his demon status, his default human-projection screamed middle-management in that tacky 3-piece suit. “I’m afraid I’m here in official SCD business.” 

“I can tell. The stick is further up your ass than usual.” She strived to sit up and look at him from the rim of her cat-eye shades, “Did you do some hocus-pocus to your face? Seems less droopy somehow?”

Deanzmit’ar ignored her jabs and sat on the pool stretcher beside hers instead. “How have you been, Ellz’beth?”

“Shit,” she hummed, slurping from the drink’s metal straw, “I must be in real trouble if you're using my full spawn name.” Satisfied, Beth smacked her lips and waved at the paradisiac Caribbean view she’d dreamt up, “But as you can see, I’m enjoying myself.” 

“Well, that’s why I am here. I’d like to discuss your performance as of the last…” He checked the scroll, “century or so.”

“Yeah? What about it?” She indulged, making sure the tide rose and salty sand washed the demon’s shoddy loafers.

“You’ve been failing to deliver your assigned soul quota. Anyway, it wouldn’t be a big deal but there is an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation and we’ve come up with a plan to put you to speed. The entire department would very much like to exceed this quarter’s projections, you know… before we turn in for the Big Kahuna and tempt all those ‘YouKnowWho’ worshippers.” He said, giggling at the hackneyed joke.

“Everybody loves the good ol’ Christian holidays.” She sneered.

Most of the Demonic force got their mandated fifteen-day annual leave after Halloween; the birth and celebration of _YouKnowWho_ and all it entailed was a trying time for evil, even if the date was wrong.

“Yeah, well. So, it’s pretty simple.” He said, handing her a loose sheet of papyrus from his clipboard, “One hundred souls by the 31st of October’s witching hour. Like stealing candy from children. I have all the details for you, just need you to get up there and suck me some suckers!”

“Nah… I’m good, thanks. As matter of fact, I think it’s a great time to discuss a retirement package with HR.”

She pushed her shades back up her nose and laid back on the chaise longue and closed her eyes just in time to see Deanzmit’ar’s jaw click. 

“Oh, c’mon, Beth. You love your job. To the date, you still maintain one of the most hellish-grade performances in the history of our department. I’m just trying to figure what has changed and how we can help you... this isn’t about that Succu/Celebrity position you coveted, is it?”

“Fuck off kindly, Dean. I couldn’t care less. You’re literally ruining my tan with your wannabe shade.”

“You see! This kind of callow, Hellspawn-like behaviour just evinces that you weren’t ready to take on a demotion. I’ll tell you what, you get this done and I’ll put in a good word with Downstairs. No hard feelings.”

That was rich, coming from a lower demon spawn with a full set of fine silver fangs and an official issued nepotism certificate.

“Oh, my Devil!” She pretended to clutch the non-existential pearls around her neck, “Thank you for your generosity! All hail the Lord of Lies!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the blatant disrespect towards Our Master and report you to HR.”

“Oh, yeah? What are they gonna do? Send me to Hell?” 

The ice-cold drink vanished, the aquarelle like blue sky trembled, the mild breeze vised into a scorching heat, the pleasant crashing of waves gave way to bubbling of molten lava as the dream-like illusion melted against their real surroundings. Their true demoniac forms perched on the edge of a boiling pool, eyes blazing as they watched the human souls scream their horrid way into The Eternal Fire- a prime view included in all Hell’s accommodating chambers.

“A hundred souls by Halloween. Get your shit together, Beth. This is your one and only warning.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She muttered, “The Eternal Fire awaits thee, blah blah blah.” 

They both stood on their fiendish hindquarters. His deep red form towered over her smaller purplish winged one. The long curved horns protruding from his temple did not meet with the rolls of scaly skin she remembered there before. 

She cocked her head. The sharp v of blonde bangs flicked coquettish against her forehead. Little fangs peeked with a smirk, and iris-less eyes flared blue neon as she chuckled knowing, “You _did_ do something.”

Dean snapped his fingers and a small piece of burnt papyrus materialized between them, “You are overdue for psyche check.” 

_Oh, great! More waste of paper and a ticket to the pearly gates! Might this heavenly day get even better?_

“Maybe I wouldn’t be if the Downside kept up with technology like the rest of the universe. ” Her eco-conscious, dark-mind abraded, “You know this type of shit makes a field day Upstairs, don’t you? Laughingstock for angels, that’s what we are.”

"We have… what did you call it? Hocus-pocus? Technology is obsolete to us. Count your pains, Ellz’beth… you did your best with your Demon/Eco Awareness _thing_ , this burnt papyrus is great! I'll see you at the Halloween Ball, a hundred souls heavier." He added, perched on the small landing strip of her quarters.

_Ugh! Condescending son of an angel!_

"Say hi to your cousin Lucifer for me, will you? Don’t let the lava graze you on the way out… _dipshit."_ Beth mouthed as he poofed away, and then she read her itinerary—“Oh, you think you're funny?” She flapped her wings to boost a jump to the platform, even if Deanzmi’tar was already gone. “Fuck you! You apathetic excrement of profane darkness!” 

* * *

_"Rita Repulsa!"_ Beth blew out like an overcharged light bulb in the packed registry office. “That’s it! That’s who you look like. It was doing my head in for a second there.”

The ceremonial robed clerk assisting her raised an unimpressed eyebrow in her direction before returning to her scroll and the loud chewing of LarvaGum.

"The outfit? The way you weave your mane with your horns? C'mon! It's the spitting image! Rita Repulsa? _Go, go, Power Rangers!"_ Beth chanted, "No? That shit was IT back in the 90s." Still was comedy gold.

"No," the clerk replied. "Destination?"

Of course, the clerk didn't know about the Power Rangers. The closer up you were on the chain the less access you had to human pop-culture. Just one of those Hell hierarchy things.

"Detroit, Michigan. Land of the brave and free." An obvious irony.

With a frown, the clerk unfolded the burnt paper further down the mammoth table, “That’s not what your scroll decrees.”

Beth leaned in, twirling a strand of silky, pin-straight, blonde hair around her pointy claw-like indicator. “Last time I checked, Management still approved of rule-breaking.”

The clerk looked at her and Beth looked at the clerk’s mouth, rolling that LarvaGum between its molars, inquiring but not enough as to show her keenness. 

Like Heavens, if she was going to Darwin, Australia amidst the worst pollen season recorded in centuries. If she wanted to sweat her demon tiddies, she would do it here, minus the sneezing. 

Detroit was just for body count. What Beth loved about Michigan was the cooling amenity of its weather. The countless bodies of water and the decadent scent of sugar maple trees were just a surplus. It felt as far away from Hell as she might ever demonically be, which was exactly what she needed right now.

“You damn right it does,” The clerk said after an impossibly long beat, proceeding to snatch a ladder as tall as the demon eye could see. The full length of the Wall of Registry mostly stashed conventional papyrus, a sight that always grated on Beth’s sharp teeth. 

With the snap of its fingers, the right scroll convened into the clerks’ grasp and spread open over the table. "We have housing available unless you prefer a hotel, all expenses included with your Human Starter Pack."

“I’ll take the house.”

“You’re due for a psyche check. There’s a backlog with our in-house therapists that may delay your departure. I can waive your flight restrictions if you have your session with a member of our outbound team within twelve hours of arrival.

“That’s fine.” She’d have to do it anyway.

“Very well. I’ll need your CelesPass.”

Beth conjured her Celestial Passport, Earth was a no go without one of these. The clerk poured hot, boiling WickedWax, a pleasant mix of molten lava and sulphur, and sealed Beth’s visa with Lulu’s official serpent crest.

“Ellz’beth of the Lilin ?, you’re hereby granted a ninety-day stay on Earth, effective immediately.” The clerk handed her the CelesPass and the HSP including all she needed for a mortal existence; ID, phone, currency, paper trail and such. “I upgraded your Starter Pack to a Deluxe Edition, scot-free. Happy soul-sucking!”

“Thank you!” Beth could’ve jumped up and down as mortals like to do when excited. Deluxe meant your fave commodities on arrival. Beth’s included but not limited to; designer shoes, bottomless top-shelf bourbon, and her very own Slurpee machine. 

“An unblessed day to you! Oh, and by the way, check Power Rangers out, you'll see, just missing the sceptre. Here…” Beth grabbed the plume nearby, dipped it in demon’s blood ink and scribbled on the edge of the open scroll, “Access to my NiflheimPrime ? account, in case you’re interested." 

* * *

“I’m just so… _bored,_ all the time. It’s not even tedium per se… I get to do fun things all the time. It’s—”

“Ennui.” The therapist said, hitting the tack dead on and consequently arching Beth’s perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

“Exactly!” _Maybe this therapist thing wasn’t so bad._ “And that freaking demon just made everything worse. He always does.”

Beth’s recently manicured nails dragged through the spines of the shelved encyclopedias. The acrylic raking through the bound leather was oddly satisfying. She could’ve shaped and polished the perfect almonds with a mere thought. There was something about the treating yourself part, sit and enjoy the pampering that was otherwise unachievable. She grasped the leaf of a potted plant. Her synapses tingled to sentience, every embossed green vein erotically captured by her enhanced demonic senses. Human bodies were such a bounty.

She must have zoned out cause the insipid voice of her therapist came knocking, “Deanzmit’ar?” 

“Oh, yes… I hate him.” She threw herself on the couch and continued. “Devil Lord, how I hate that demon.” She puffed to the ceiling, watching the smoke of the burning sulphur incense snake against the white background.

“Why is that?” Her therapist asked just as non-descript as their surroundings. 

Beth was sure that this couch and that wall of framed degrees was exactly the same in every existing counselling room. Everything was zestless, albeit excellent quality, all detail prosaic and trite. Why would someone bound themselves to Earth only to decorate like their address was still Hell? And what was up with the mousy hairdo? Beth took an immediate mental note to later provide the therapist with her hairstylist details.

“First and foremost, he doesn’t believe in climate change.” Beth explained, “Does not care! Where will we be if there is no world left? If it goes kaboom, there are no souls. No souls, no torment, no meaning. They probably do more harm to the Earth with all that soul burning than the stupid humans themselves. Where is the smoke going? Do they tell us? Phosphorus forbid, no!”

“I understand you are passionate about climate change, we’ve talked about it extensively in our previous sessions, perhaps we should stay on the topic?”

Right, the hive mind thing. Talking with one therapist was talking with all of them. It served the purpose well, still freaky AF.

“Obviously he’s trying to fuck me over? First, I don’t get a recommendation for downgrading and now this task? He wants to ship me to Australia! I mean, Australia is known as Down Under for literal reasons… Darwin of all the places? Population cluster fuck all? To collect 100 souls in 90 days? I’m gonna have to work double-shifts as is! And They damn well know a bitch has allergies!” She ranted, crawling her way to a crouch over the lushly padded upholstery. “If that isn’t sabotaging, I don’t know what is.” 

“So you’d say this has nothing to do with the fact that you are projecting human emotions into your relationships?”

 _“What?”_ Beth scoffed, gurgling her neck like a turkey. “Heavens in Harth, NO! I don’t care for that godforsaken fart in the least! _Relationship?”_ She gobbled awkwardly, “That’s funny!”

The therapist’s fingernails tapped the iPad’s screen, an unblessed sight for Beth’s environmental-friendly, sore eyes. 

“Your file states that the two of you spawned a demon together, two millennia ago.”

“And I’ve spawned three more all by myself before that. I don’t see the point of bringing up a soirée wherein the spirit of Mortal Tears ran freely and mistakes were made.”

“Okay!” The therapist’s mouth formed a thin line, a very unusual display of frustration, even for an earthbound demon. “As we have previously discussed, all these emotions are very common phenomena, especially for Succubi/Incubi who feed on human desires, fears and memories. Humans are constantly out of control and I assure you that the overload you’re experiencing it’s perfectly normal.”

 _“Wait…”_ Beth jolted. “What do you mean _out of control?_ Like crazy?”

“We don’t like to use that term.” The therapist said gently, “Do not worry. I cannot stress this enough. It’s all residual and it can be _easily_ reversed. I’m going to prescribe you some elixirs to help with the mood swings as you complete your quest, and then I’m recommending a prolonged stay at the Eternal Fire Natural Springs. Isn’t that wonderful news?”

Beth groaned and threw herself back on the lounge couch. _Just great… who doesn't love a bit of torture?_

“Excellent! A full cleanse will restore you completely. We’ll book you in for the next session, let’s say in… 50 years? And don't forget your lollipop,” the therapist grabbed a wrapped candy from a jar and handed the stick towards Beth, “It's maggot’s flavour, full of endorphins.”

Beth eyeballed the candy and then the therapist’s cow-licked bun. _You know what?_ Fuck the ugly hairdo, it isn’t like Beth will remember her stupid face after all that anyway. Everyone knew that spa-treatment was just a euphemism for lobotomy. She didn't care. Demons didn't care about anything. Expecially not about losing eons of their curated fashion sense. Nope… not one bit. 

Furious, she raided the jar instead, hauling a handful of maggot suckers into her Chanel handbag.

She snatched the lollipop from the dumbfounded therapist’s grasp, popped it in her mouth and mimicked the slurping of a fellatio, finishing off with a loud extracting pop. “Tell HR to suck my dick like I sucked your lollipop, yes?” 

She waved and waltzed out of there with the succulent treat between her lips.

It didn’t take long for HR to get back to her. An informal heed to report back to the Eternal Fire Natural Springs as soon as her purple ass touched Hell and her second strike notice, all in one go.

Instead of giving in to her hearts’ desire of connecting herself umbilically to the spiked Slurpee machine’s tap and wallow in foetal-position to her malaise, that night Beth clad herself in a Gucci aubergine pencil dress with suede details and matching waist-cinching belt, dusted off her black suede Jimmy Choo 6” pumps and went to a bar.

And boy, did she pick a terrible day to go out. Things seemed to have changed a bit since her last ascent way back in 2004. And while she tried her best to stay on top of trends - the FOMO was real - reality hit different. 

The few patrons scattered around might have been described as zombies. Phones were indeed the new age Succubus, no one went more than five minutes without consulting them for some sort of sordid knowledge. 

The music wailed like an 18th-century consumption-affected harlot. A mixed genre of indie rock and blues, her demonic Intuitive Aptitude revealed. Something that tugged at the hollow where her soul should have been. 

“What in the… who sings this?” She huffed into her extra iced bourbon and the tiny, cute, little thing sitting two stools away brimmed her shot glass in Beth’s direction. 

“Hozier. Perfect for depression days, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Beth said, already scooting closer. 

An hour and a half later and this chick had poured her life’s story worth into Beth’s bourbon. They swapped names, bonded over their mutual disdain for the patriarchal institution, talked about breakups and hookups, swiped left and right as Beth discovered Tinder and Lyft and Postmates and all these other reasons why bars feel so different.

“So listen to this,” Annie drummed her fingers on the bar’s tab in anticipation for the grand finale, “Not only do I find out that Brian is in fact married and that he has not one but two little kids, but also that I have to spend the rest of my night sorting his trash for the fucking receipt!”

“That’s fucked up,” Beth tsked. “The one good thing about men is that you don’t have to sort them, they are all trash.”

“Say it louder for the bitches at the back!” 

They clink tequila shots and drown them between laughs and Beth couldn’t remember when was the last time she had that much fun. 

Eventually, Annie had to leave... Had to pick her kid in the morning or something and Beth offered to share a ride (try that Lyft thang). They stop at Annie’s place first and even when Beth hasn’t put any effort or trick in play, Annie hoovers by the car’s door. “Hey, B? You wanna come up? I have some room-temperature vodka and half a pack of Cheez-Its’."

 _B._ She likes that.

Something a little funny twisted inside Beth’s stomach, certainly it had something to do with the foul nacho platter they’d ordered at the bar. And later that night when Beth was perched on Brian’s scrummy chest, draining the cheating soul out of him, she told herself it had nothing to do with avenging Annie’s honour. 

Life went on, Beth drank the elixirs, which seemed to bear no effect. Tinder proved to be a success and souls drained by, effortlessly on schedule, while Annie’s company turned into a fancied semi-constant. 

Man, she was a mess; a fairly entertaining one. She was easy to be around, easy to read, her moon face reflected her emotions and the thickly populated eyebrows gave away the next one as if they were living a life of their own. Plus, she was definitely on Santa’s naughty list, just Beth’s kind of gal. 

She’d learned of her side hustle on the first visit to the house. 

“So you’re flushed? All that Gucci and YSL aren’t knockoffs?” 

Beth observed close by, wine glass in hand as Annie grasped and explored her surroundings. The house itself was just above medium-high suburban wage however her closet was a different topic.

“I wouldn’t say flushed... well taken care of,”

Annie paused by the fireplace mantle, a row of picture frames capturing her attention. “You never told me you had kids.”

“You never asked,” One would think the minivan parked on the driveway was telling enough, still humans were like this, connecting some dots and missing others. Remarkable creatures.

“Woah, four? You must have had them young.”

Beth almost chuckled. “Not really,” Not by human standards anyway.

“They’re cute.” She commented absently. Definitely not what she’d say if she saw their true appearance. “They with their grandparents or something?” she asked, looking around with uncertainty. “This mausoleum hasn’t seen a kid in a while.”

Beth smiled cooly from the rim of her glass. And this was why she liked to keep her lies as she kept her appearance; as close to the truth as possible. 

She’d learned the hard way that some humans retained an inexplicable sixth-sense to demon bullshit and Beth was diligent with her illusions, either in or out of the realm of reality.

“They are living their dreams. I’ve shipped them to Hogwarts.” _Well, what one would call the infernal version, The Treat of Tricks Academy._

Kenn’eth, her first spawned, would graduate soon enough, which Beth herself was dreading. Good luck with a pubescent Incubus set loose on their first assignment. Oh, the sweet chaos. The casualties. Nothing that she’d had to technically worry about. Demon parenthood wasn’t a reflection of the human experience, in any sense. You popped a mofo like bubblegum one day and maybe saw it once or twice over one’s immortal existence. Beth herself hadn’t set eyes on her mother, Lilith (yes, that Lilith), since spawned.

“Just don’t tell mine that Hogwarts is an option.” Annie laughed. “And this’s the husband?” she waved a picture frame of Beth Boland’s supposed wedding.

Beth placed the glass on the coffee table and took it, a fine-tip sharpie already conjured into her palm. She briskly sketched on the glass and handed it back to Annie. “There. Now that looks way more like him.”

Annie giggled delighted at the ram-like horns and a pointy devil’s tail. “That bad?”

“I’m working on it. Deanzy there is a tad of an old-school chap.”

Again, half-lies worked best. Projecting semi-fake family drama was easier than explaining that she had three self-spawn teenage demons, and shared a young spawn via a chthonian induced high with the middle-management trash she had beef with. Although she probably could’ve gotten away with it, pretty much sounded like every other episode of Maury’s. 

Annie placed the picture back on the mantle and sprawled herself on the sofa, something brewing on her tongue. Beth refilled their glasses and waited patiently. Humans are so cute with their endless insecurities.

“This crib of yours... it’s really nice,” she said, eyeing the living room again. “So I’m guessing you’re not short on cash or anything?”

“Why? You want to rob a bank or _something?”_ Beth teased way close home, and inspiring Annie to choke on her wine.

Of course, she knows all about the grocery store ordeal. Just because she’d decided not to eat Annie’s soul early on it didn’t mean she wasn’t gonna have a little fun with it, what kind of Succubus would she be? Besides she liked to know who she was getting in bed with and if this was heading the way Beth thought it was heading, the business should come handy to both parties. 

“No. No. Nothing like that. My friend Ruby and I, I’ve told you about Ruby, right? Well, we’re in the midst of an entrepreneurial venture.”

“Oh, so nothing on the white-collar criminal spectrum then?” Beth amused, enjoying watching Annie sweating to find an explanation.

“Listen, you don’t have to involve yourself in the details. I just want to rent your place for a few meetings, think about it like a Tupperware party or book club.”

Beth leaned closer, sitting by the couch’s armrest. “And what if I want in this _book club_ of yours?” 

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Annie stumbled, the power of Beth’s enthrallment already taking its toll.

Beth smiled coyly, her fingers dancing their way towards Annie’s backhand and twirling sensually around one of her knuckles before she turned her blue gaze on the human’s hazel one, and bore it with her will. “Why don’t you tell me all about it and I’ll decide what’s good for us?”

Annie’s lips parted with a breathless yes and Beth broke the inducement satisfied. “Wonderful.”

When Beth met Ruby the dislike was instant, and mutual. She was _one of those._ Believed in the Almighty, at least to some degree, but also held a good amount of common sense and thus less predisposed to Beth’s _charms._ The fanatics, contrary to the beliefs, those were the easy ones. If you’re gonna take metaphors like YouKnowWho walking on water and take it literally then a Succubus calling was analogous to a walk in the park. 

“You told her about the secret shoppers?” Beth eavesdropped Ruby roasting Annie for inviting a stranger into their crime ring. “She could be a cop for all you know!”

A silent “Are you stupid?” lingered in Ruby’s pregnant pause and in another life, Beth was able to picture a scenario wherein they would've started with their right foot and enjoyed each other's company; this one palpably out of question.

“Hey, B?” Annie yelled from the other end of the bar, where Ruby had unnecessarily dragged her. Demons had a sublime hearing. “Are you a cop?”

“Nope.”

“See. She’s not a cop.”

“This is insane,” Ruby muttered exasperated.

And if there was one thing that Beth hated in this life it's party poopper.

“Dude.. we need her,” Annie insisted, perfectly reasonably. “We need the space, her house is perfect, she fits right in with the PTA crew. We need this if we’re gonna pay off the crime boss.”

“We don’t know her,"

No, she did not know Beth. Her husband would, _real soon._ Beth mused, already scouting the wedding ring on Ruby’s finger.

Beth was perched on Ruby’s husband's chest, sieving through the thousands of wife-obsessed sexual fantasies when she had one those so-called WTF moments.

She went from impish and elegant Succubus doing her thing to bamboozled bridge Troll in the flash of a second. Why the fuck was she going through all this trouble for? Pettiness? Jealousy? Of Annie? _Oh. My. God._ Maybe she really needed that bath in Hell’s natural springs. 

She wasn’t even having any fun with it. All the sexual fantasies this man had involved his loving wife. Fucking lame. And by the vibe of the other party, same old. 

If there was such a thing as cloying as soulmates these two were it. And she’d know, such was the gift of Enhanced Empathy ?. And in all honesty, the last she wanted to deal with was true love, it was far from her kink to test such bonds.

She pouted, weighing down heavily enough to usurp his breath away. It wasn’t like she’d be able to justify sucking his soul out in cold blood. There was still some basic courtesy to abide by, laws she couldn't transgress without upsetting the celestial balance and causing a supernatural disaster.

What a waste of time, she should be out there having the time of her life tormenting the Republican twat she’d recently matched with on Tinder. Pegging a certain _President_ himself (without lube) was the dream. Unfortunately, public figures and small-minded men with a little power were reserved to the lower bracket she’d been denied into. Well… she had that one laurel to claim from a certain Horseman called Pestilence, and by her account humanity was due for another plague any day now.

Annoyed, Beth untethered the connection and jumped off the man’s chest with a flap of her wings and only to land on Ruby’s sleeping heave. Petty or not, Beth still warranted some type of compensation, and she knew just the kind. 

She gave a swift mental kick to Ruby’s synapses, weaving an easy and effective hypnic jerk. That sudden falling sensation never failed on delivering some basic fun. And Ruby jolted from her peaceful slumber, clutching to her heart just as Beth poofed out from the room like her sleep paralysis cousins were culpable of doing. 

Even with the unnatural distrust, always wise Ruby fell in with the plan, and soon the Book Club seances began. It was slow at first, a couple of people here and there until Beth offered to rope some of PTA friends she hadn’t made just yet. That part was easy, she just ran into the closest elementary school and played the flute as the Pied Piper himself (she actually knew the cunning old fart in the flesh, one of her best teachers back when she was an alumnus at the Treat of Tricks Academy herself).

After that, it was a packed house and never a dull moment with Annie leading NDR speeches, pulling company policies like rabbits out of a magician’s hat and dragging bitches for as much as breathing the wrong way during her lectures. Beth kept watch for those, Annie could attract douchebags like no one else. And thus, Beth gazed onto Mary Pat Warner’s jet-black soul and she dared to look back.

Beth recognized a loose cannon when she saw one, and neither the prude cardigans nor the cross around her neck saved Mary Pat from lusting. And she lusted for Beth a lot, not in the physical sense of course, the Good Lord didn’t allow such things. 

No, she lusted for the picket fence house, the poster-child of a family, the beauty, the money, the closet… you name it, she lusted after what Beth Boland had and life hadn’t been fair in delivering. And that was just as good reason enough as any for Beth to follow upon. 

The problem was that Beth didn’t like what she saw. The woman’s life was miserable. Her kids were ungrateful lil’ bitches. Her husband was as helpful as a dry mop. Her last orgasm had been three years, 23 hours, 38 minutes and 4 seconds ago, and she didn’t masturbate, again the Good Lord said you shan’t. 

Her bank account was on the red and thinner than a tomato peel and her only moment of happiness was when that monthly check arrived, which dear ol’ Jeff promptly cashed and proceeded to spend a quarter of it on booze and a trip to the closest strip club. All while Mary Pat hacked her hair at home with dull scissors cause there was no money for hairstylists, not even a shoddy one. 

That alone was enough reason for Beth doing what she had to do; kiss Jeff to mohterfucking death.

She didn’t want ol’ Pat to get into police scrutiny so Beth took her time with Jeff, visiting his dreams each night with the particular intent of causing a heart attack. Since The Kiss of Death? was so difficult to master, a natural cause of death was an arduous achievement even for seasoned Succubus like Beth. 

The afternoon when Jeff dropped dead, Beth took the girls out in celebration. But of course, as soon as she started warming up towards Ruby, she had to ruin the mood.

“I can’t believe you want to ask for more fake cash. We are barely handling it as is. I don’t have time to run around making returns day and night, Sara is sick—” Ruby cut her whining and pressed her lips in a tight smile just as Beth joined back after a quick freshen-up in the bathroom. 

“Did you guys order the jalapeño poppers for me?”

Annie wiggled her bushy eyebrows in Beth’s direction. “We have the answer right here.”

 _“No!_ We agreed no more people.”

“Dude, c’mon. She’s basically an inside man. And she obvs has connections. That can’t hurt the biz.”

“Don’t you think it’s just a little odd that some uppity bitch with a brass spoon in her mouth wanting an in into all this?”

Overly entertained, Beth had to camouflage a smirk into her glass. “You guys, I’m right here in case you haven’t noticed.”

“She hasn’t even asked for nothing!” Annie rebuked outraged.

“That doesn’t make it better! It makes it even more suspicious.” Reasoned Ruby.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and let you guys figure it out,” Beth said, not even going through the trouble of raising her ass from the barstool before Annie stopped her.

“I’ve made a logistics decision and in possession of the power of attorney, and therefore acting head of Corporate, I’d love to offer you a full partnership within our Secret Shopper entrepreneurship.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and Beth had the inexplicable urge to grab her neck and flush it through the table. Eye rolls equal a massive pet peeve of hers, for no particular reason.

“Just don’t come at me when the time comes and I say - _I told you so.”_

* * *

Pledged to full partnership, Beth had the required honorifics to meet the famous Gang Friend. And by then she was more than half curious about the mystery man. 

A twelve and a half percent cut was an absolute steal and the fashion in which Ruby and Annie whispered _Gang Friend_ glancing over their shoulders as if speaking his name out loud held the power of summoning, had done nothing but drive Beth into entertaining the possibility that they were dealing with nothing more than a greedy leprechaun. 

Well… Ellz’beth of the Lilin wasn’t laughing anymore. A leprechaun would have been less dazing than the mystifying creature a few yards away.

Dark and wiry, he stood against the park’s bench. Moonlight kissed bronze skin, shaping cheekbones like razor edges. A beanie and densely populated eyebrows hooded the black olives he had for eyes. The straight line of his nose led to the askew slant of a beard-dusted, sinful mouth. And Beth couldn’t explain it, what drove her heart into a sultry gallop, just that she perceived it, the same way that she sensed the thin layer of frost that would coat the roads tomorrow morning in every molecule of her being. It was lust, pure and on the first-hand account, and that… that was _new._

She dawdled behind, watching as the girls engaged him in chit-chat that he didn’t appreciate. Overwhelmed by the rouse sired of her loins and not the diluted recollection of the souls she tormented. Temptation was the currency she traded in, albeit a mystery she couldn’t quite comprehend or humour... until now.

In part, the enigma remained whole. She had no idea how these feelings crept on her out of nowhere and nestled in her groin. It wasn’t the only cause for disquiet.

There was something well-nigh unhuman within him. Made of the same primordial flame running through her veins, trying to tether yet unable to do so. It wasn’t unheard of, few earthlings remained trussed to the veil between realms. Still, that uncouth spine in him jutted above all else. It was written all over his raging quietness, in the manner he exerted command. So much that when he moved it was more like the world moved for him. That when he approached, it was she that slid in close, swathed in his shroud.

His gaze dripped down her body, gooey like molasses. From her wool beret to the rouge on her mouth, from her chin to the silk scarf tied around her neck. It pooled hot and heavy on the swelled porcelain, flaunted off the open lapels of her coat. It took another beat for his eyes to trickle past the sash cinched to the small of her waist to where she clutched the handles of the duffle bag.

He might have been expecting her, albeit she wasn’t quite what he’d expected - that made two of them. Oh, that gaze was sensual alright, but Beth was no fool. It was heavy because he was weighing her, measuring her. And just like so, when he was done it hardened like crystalized sugar over the gemstone blue of hers.

“You must be Elizabeth.”

That voice was like purred wax, smearing sudden and inevitable goosebumps all over her skin. 

“And you must be Gang Friend.”

He smirked with a hint of white but those weren’t teeth, those were blades cutting through her ovaries. 

“I know all about you, _Mrs Boland.”_

 _Did he now?_ Beth bit her tongue, amused. “And I nothing about you.” 

“There’s only one thing you need to know about me.” 

“And what is that?” Beth indulged in his arrogance.

“You work for me now, right? You’re like UPS. If you don’t deliver, I’ll come around lookin’.” 

Beth had to bite her smirk from spreading out. “Careful now, some of us girls might just assume it’s because you like what you see. But I wouldn’t want to be brass and fit you into some type, I seldom go around meeting with gangbangers... as you already know.”

It was like being slapped by a high-tide and electrocuted by an industrial current. And he was just as aware as she of an inevitable collision. Although he was still human ,and predictable to that ingrained fighting nature he rolled up his sleeves and held his stand.

“Yeah, you see... I’ve known my share of milfs and you’d be exactly the type.”

It didn’t deter Ellz’beth in the slightest, conversely, she raved in the fact that even after all these millennia, humankind still had the galls to conceive victory. It was beautiful in its innocence, so much that she often wondered who truly was godly, the Earth or the Realms.

“Thirty percent,” she announced to his swaying shoulder blades.

“Excuse me,” he halted, looking over his shoulder as if she was the rose thorn pricked in his thumb.

“We’ll take a thirty percent cut from now on.”

“Twelve,” he barked to Annie's and Ruby’s protest.

“Twenty or I’ll go knock on someone else’s door.”

He chuckled, husky and oh so deep it kicked her in the fanny. “You sure you know which door to knock, baby?”

By the Dark Lord if she wouldn’t knock on all of them just to sink a tooth in that sly soul of his. So just as shrewd, Beth batted her big blue eyes, all modesty. 

“If you knock on enough, one is bound to open, right?” she said, handing him the duffle bag, the tips of her canines glimmering like freshly washed cash.

Their digits inched so close his warmth reached her fingertips. The urge to touch him and unveil his deepest secrets near insufferable. As if he could sense the leeching danger his retreat was swift. 

“Load them up... and triple it.” Gang Friend tipped towards one of his guys, still eyeing her with every ounce of seigneury. 

“Swell!” she exaggerated in an effort to hide the pout about to form on her mouth. 

Mr Neck-tat furled his brow, Ruby wheezed beside her and Annie shimmied in with a faint _“Is it?”_

“You ain’t gettin’ any more time, sweetheart,” he advised all shark-toothed.

“Oh, it isn’t a problem,” Beth assured.

 _“It isn’t?”_ gasped Annie.

“Go big or go home,” He wasn’t the only one that could come up with terms of endearment in this bech. “Right, _papa?”_

At that one of his unruly eyebrows bunched-up further into his beanie, the slant of his grin whetted keener before he chewed on his lip. “Mm-hmm.”

She was glad he’d already turned away. An odd satisfaction had rendered in her belly soft and a stupid smile was buttered all over her face.

“What. Was. That?” Ruby sibilated in short breaths.

Wouldn’t Beth like to know. 

Ellz’beth didn’t have the habit of depriving herself of any pleasures however a little edging went a long way; a fortiori when those cravings concerned baffling vassals like Gang Friend. It was easier said than done when he kept looking at her all cutesy and that tongue of his is swooped slicker than Satan’s. The next time they exchange Rolands for Olivers she can’t stop herself. 

“You bought that momma van with you?”

“Of course! Do you need a ride to soccer practice, papa?”

He chuckled. Their fingers brushed under the duffle’s nylon, and Beth prodigiously wheedled his mind, shielding herself for the expected overriding of memories and emotions and-- _boing!_ The hollow echo of a psychic barrier shuddered her psyche. 

_What the fuck?_

Beth instigated her will deeper with the same reverberating outcome, and the electrifying pleasure of grazing something powerful underneath the warm bronze of his skin. 

_Could it be?_

What was earnest novelty the week before unveiled the climax to her tedious predicaments. All left to uncover was if oasis or mirage, either way, Beth was hecka thirsty. She cocked her head, eyes half-lidded in expectation. “What _are_ you? A Fallen??” 

Just as puzzled, he pulled away. Adam’s apple grating under the bird tattoo, as if a sliver of her had gotten caught there.

From the corner of her eye, Beth first paid attention to the pair chaperoning Gang Friend. Or better yet, to the flare of their feathery wings. It was too untimely and deific for the human sight to glimpse, ample enough for Beth to see their irises flicking with a muted yellow light. 

_Well, well._ Those were Angels alright, and _Fallen_ right with the bad boys. How ironic.

“Load ’em up?” the stubbiest Fallen said to Beth’s amusement. Oh, this was going to be _fun._

“We up your drop? Say 750?” Gang Friend rasped. 

“Why?” she asked, diverted by the gruff of his croon.

“Cause you delivered.”

Again that absurd melting of the inguen transpired. She wheeled closer, smacked her lips, voice coming out mostly lisp. “Trust me, papa, my thoughts often veer into the alternative.”

“Oh no, trust me, _Elizabeth..._ you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

 _Did he have to say it like that? So nefariously carnal?_ It twigged her to know how he would pronounce her spawn name. And Hell, the syrupy taint on his breath drew this vivid picture of his mouth suckling on the pearl of her clit like it was candy. Her nipples already teased by that lingering gaze of his, pebbled to rocks.

“I wouldn’t take that for granted…" she takes a deep breath and says it out loud, even if she'll probably get hives, " _Christopher.”_

Did it have to be _that?_ Couldn't it be something like Ron? 

Yes, okay, she knows his name… so what? So maybe she did a little sleuthing this past week? So what if she found out he owned a bar called “Lucky’s” downtown? And that his recently renovated loft still smelled of fresh paint? That his slick kitchen tiles were the most hideous hue of green humankind ever created… and that he was biased to the pizzazz of abstract artwork? So what if she knew he wasn’t sleeping there and maybe it had to do with the fact that he wore a band in his ring finger? Okay, so maybe edging came off strong in the situation. Whatever, she was a little obsessed. Who was checking her anyway?

The Fallen cleared his throat and Beth fell back on the ball of her stiletto boot heels, giving dumbfounded Chris there - a three-finger salute on Scout’s honour. The girls waited further back while she followed the stubby Angel to the boot of her minivan. Beth grinned, delighted as the glossy, jet-black Cadillac piped hot down the gravel road. 

“What’s up with the skinny papa? Did he hit his head during The Fall or something?” Beth asked. Second the legend, the fall of angels was a nasty business, not for the faint of heart. 

“Nah. He’s an In-betweener.”

 _“Oh,”_ she reviewed with what she hoped sounded, low-key interest. “That’s… _interesting.”_

No, that was rare af. No wonder he’d felt so… _juicy._

In-betweeners were celestial magnets for both sides of the fight. Anomalies in the system. The Neo’s in the matrix. Primitively engendered half-demon, half-angel. Not belonging in one place or another, they were stripped of their attributes and thrown on Earth to live an equally estranged human life. That was called balance by Celestial laws. Beth called it bullshit.

“Don’t be gettin’ ideas, Succubus. He’s a friend.”

Beth simpered. “He could be a friend to both of us. I’m not a green-eyed demon. Sharing is caring - the motto behind my life’s work.”

He harvested the joint perched behind his ear, placed it between his lips and flicked a lighter. “I’m fuckin’ serious.”

Beth watched the tip glow red. “You are protecting him. Why?”

He puffed a thick cloud of smoke out. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

 _Ha!_ A guardian angel of all the things.

“And you…” he enquired, offering her the blunt. “Why you hangin’ out with some broads?”

“Same, same but different. I guess. Duty is a bitch, huh?” Beth dragged from it, thoughts ready to set fire as the smoke doused her lungs. “Ellz’beth,” she said, returning the blunt. “Beth is just fine.”

“Mick.”

“As in Michael? You guys related?”

“Mick as in Michelangelo but yeah, he’s a distant cousin.”

“He’s a cunt!” Beth wailed. There were crazy stories around. Haughty on the prophecy that he would end the war and defeat Satan, the pompous Archangel liked to stick his wings where they didn’t belong. And Beth herself crossed paths with Michael eons ago, still green as Succubus came, and that righteous ass had the audacity to blast her with light for teasing an altar boy’s wet dream. She’d bounced around with a singed tail for at least a whole millennia. A tragedy.

“That’s some family tree, my man.” She patted his meaty shoulder in solidarity. 

“Brought me down here, that’s for sure.”

Through the thick haze of smoke, the other Angel popped in with the new batch of cash and their cut. 

“Y’all done fraternizing here?” The bags hit the boot’s inlay with a dull thump, and he set eyes on Mick like tacks. “We’ve got shit to do.”

“Yo,” Mick called as she closed the trunk. Eyes glowing that Fallen muted yellow, broken wingspan fanned. “Stay the fuck away.” 

Beth’s lips quirked. “Sure, Jan! No need to ruffle your feathers.”

“What the fuck was that? You’re making friends with all of them now?” Annie screeched once they were at a safe distance.

“Don’t worry about it, pumpkin!” In excellent humour, Beth rounded her arm around Annie’s small frame and placed a big ol’, wet smooch on her temple. “Look at us! Friends are good for business. Right, Ruby?”

Ruby rolled her eyes and banged the passenger door. “You gonna get us killed, that's what’s good.”

Beth tittered, gently pushing a dazed Annie through the sliding door _\- oopsies, the kiss -_ but yes, technically, Ruby wasn’t wrong. She’d already decided that wherein her soul quota concerned this trio would be her last meal. Annie the appetizer, Ruby her main course and _him…_ dessert. 

The next morning she drove by the cafe where he usually had breakfast, Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac blasting through the speakers. Christopher stood by the place’s entrance talking with a few of his guys. No Fallen in sight, thank the Hound, she wouldn’t have to deal with those bores. 

His eyes followed the blast, head snapping as he recognized her. She pumped the brakes a bit ahead, pretending to just have noticed him. His deft swagger already on its way, she looked in the rear vision mirror, brushing her bangs away like a nervous virgin… well, methodologically speaking--

She didn’t have time to finish that thought. His wiry arms crossed over the rolled window and his chin dipped onto them, eyes sagging somewhere else, down-low the v-neck of her tailored vest. 

“You know it’s dangerous to drive without your seatbelt on?”

“What can I say? I’m a dangerous kinda gal.”

“Yeah?” he dragged, “Is that why you’re following me?”

“Me?” she gasped, flinging an open hand to her chest, where his eyes followed instantly. “Never. I love this place. The hashbrown in their breakfast burritos is so--”

“Crispy,” he finalized for her.

They smiled at each other like idiots, and warm af, Beth’s stomach decided to do a flip like it’s a freaking pancake. _Ugh… no, no. This was not it._

Possibly afflicted by the same ailment, his mood swung like a seesaw. “Shouldn't you be worryin' bout my money?”

“Do you believe in God?” she blurted out instead, eyes aimed like arrows. 

Unfazed, he answered sound. “You kinda have to, if you believe in Evil.”

“Hop in, papa...” she dared him, “I'll show you both.”

**Author's Note:**

> -Am I claiming that Ellz'beth is the one to blame for Covid-19? Perhaps!
> 
> \- It was time Beth called Rio papa, he clearly loves it, right?
> 
> -I didn't even know how to tag half of this, let me know if it needs other tags.
> 
> Glossary:  
> -The Lilin: The children of Lilith, Adam's 1st wife who is said to have become a Succubus.  
> -NiflheimPrime: Hell's very own streaming service.  
> -Enhanced Empathy: Ability to sense desires/dreams and history/memories by touch (on all humanoids including demons, angels, etc. Even objects depending on the users’ talent)  
> -The Kiss of Death: aka Devil’s Breath is the Succubus ultimate ability. Drains the victim of its soul and life force. This is fatal to normal humans. It can be controlled as the Succubus gains experience.  
> -Fallen: The common term for an Angel that has fallen from grace.


End file.
